Art

I come from a generation that was encouraged to color inside the lines. There was a story that I used to tell myself, that I was not artistic. I was quite invested in this story, until I discovered that it was a lie. It was with the help of a friend who is an amazing artist herself, that I began to believe this.

A couple of semesters ago, I took an Art course at my college called "Color and Design." It was like going to kindergarten every time I walked in that classroom. I loved it. Early in the semester, one of the students who was quite critical of herself said something disparaging about herself and what she had created. The instructor told the class that we were not allowed to do that, adding, "It's not helpful." One of the delightful things about the instructor was that she sometimes did talk to us like we were in kindergarten, and that was one of those occasions.

I learned some good theory in that class. I also got the much-needed four credits in Art that I need. I was introduced to an amazing new world. Best of all, I found a safe environment to express myself and take risks without reservation. I held nothing back. Way past the point where I am self-conscious, I lost myself in that class.

Now as a reader, you know that I love words. I have loved the written word since before I can remember, when the characters in the Little Golden Books were my friends. But sometimes words are not enough. My most-read post of all time is I Am Sabrina Fulton. I wrote it one morning with tears streaming down my face, then I dried my eyes and washed my face and went off to Art class.

The assignment was to make a self-portrait, and what I was not able to get on paper adequately with the written word, I got on paper with my paint brushes. It was cathartic, as I made something that was at once me and all the other mothers in the world.

Last week I had some chaos in my life, and the written word failed me. It was then that I turned to Art, my own personal Art Therapy. I decorated some Easter cards for family members, and it helped me so much to have that means of expression. It is one I denied myself for many years because I thought I wasn't good enough.

Self-expression is one of life's greatest gifts. I wonder what other means of expression I have not been allowing myself. Lately I have been thinking about the ways in which I might be holding myself back in life. Self-imposed limitations are, I suppose, the only true limitations.

Susan